Geneva Seems Like New England - The Country Around Is Well
Cultivated, And Speaks Of Thrift.
But, still, I find no land, however
beautiful, that can compare with home - Andover Hill, with its arched
elms, its blue distance pointing with spires, its Merrimac crowned
with labor palaces, and, above all, an old stone house, brown and
queer, &c. Good by.
JOURNAL - (CONTINUED.)
Thursday, July 14. Spent a social evening at Mrs. La V.'s, on the lake
shore. Mont Blanc invisible. We met M. Merle d'Aubigne, brother of our
hostess, and a few other friends. Returned home, and listened to a
serenade to H. from a glee club of fifty performers, of the working
men of Geneva. The songs were mostly in French, and the burden of one
of them seemed to be in words like these: -
"Travaillons, travaillez,
Pour la liberte!"
Friday, July 15. Mrs. C. and her two daughters are here from Paris.
They intend to come to Madame Fazy till we leave.
Saturday, July 16. Our whole company resorted to the lake, and spent
the forenoon on its tranquil waters. If this life seem idle, we
remember that there must be valleys between mountains; and as, in
those vales, tired mountaineers love to rest, so we, by the silver
shore of summer Leman, while away the quiet hours, in this interval,
between great mountain epochs Chamouni and Oberland.
Monday, July 18. Weather suspicious. Stowed ourselves and our baggage
into our _voiture_, and bade adieu to our friends and to Geneva.
Ah, how regretfully!
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